Hope In A Snowdrop
by pokemonjunkie
Summary: "Even if you stayed locked in your body for the rest of your life, I'm afraid that won't be a very long time."  So Ichigo becomes a Soul Reaper, the right way this time.  JyuuIchi, disregards the Lost Representative Arc and Ichigo losing his powers.
1. Something Dark

A/N: Ah, my second fic! This one will be a few chapters long. I'll do my best to update regularly. It's Jyuushiro x Ichigo, one of the pairings I love but don't see nearly enough of ! Oh...it makes me so sad.

Disclaimer: I'm not Tite Kubo, but I'd like to try some of those kittens he's been huffing lately with Kishimoto.

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Chapter One

Ichigo Kurosaki walked along the empty streets of Karakura Town, trying to ignore the stabbing pains and aches all over his body. Reminding him of something that no one told him, but that somehow, he intuitively knew. Something dark.

It was some time after the Winter War, several months in fact; Aizen was locked away from the outside world, and somehow Ichigo and his loved ones had all managed to survive relatively unscathed. All in all, it was the best possible outcome, and Ichigo was grateful for it. Everything was as it should be, normal, peaceful, with only the occasional small-fry Hollow to deal with. He should have been happy.

But he wasn't. Not at all, and he needed to speak with someone. Someone with knowledge of the Seireitei and shinigami.

He barely registered that his legs had taken him to Urahara's shop before he was rapping at the door with his knuckles. Barely two seconds later, the owner himself was cheerfully standing at the entrance, big grin half-obscured by his usual paper fan.

"Kurosaki-kun! What a pleasant surprise. We were just sitting down to tea, a friend and I. Would you like to join us? It's no trouble, and it's only Ukitake-taicho, so no need to be intimidated."

Ichigo nodded slowly, toeing off his shoes and stepping onto the polished wooden floor. He followed Urahara to the living room, where the silver-haired captain sat contentedly with a cup of green tea in his pale hand. He beamed when he saw Ichigo enter the room.

"Ichigo-kun, how nice to see you! You remember me, right? Rukia's captain?" Ichigo managed a slight smile and nodded.

"It's good to see you too, Ukitake. How's your cough?" He sat down on a cushion while Urahara poured him some tea, whistling cheerfully.

Ukitake chuckled. "Much better, now that I think about it. Still, I mustn't push myself too hard. It's a tricky little thing." Ichigo sipped his tea while Urahara scrutinized him over the paper fan. "What about you, Ichigo-kun? How have you been holding up?"

Ichigo's hand twitched noticably, making the tea in his cup slosh about gently. He exhaled and set it down, staring into the clear green liquid. "Actually, that's what I've come here for. I meant for only Urahara to know at the moment, but I suppose this might concern you in one way or another." He paused. "Thing is, I'm dying."

Ukitake choked on his tea while Urahara looked pensive.

To tell the truth, Urahara had been expecting something like this to happen at some point or another. It wasn't his area of expertise, and he was operating more or less on a hunch; but then again, his hunches were usually correct. But death was a delicate subject, even for a Soul Reaper, and especially for humans; he hadn't wanted to burden Ichigo with knowledge that may or may not have even been correct. It could have driven him insane, made him doubt himself and his comrades, or made him depressed. The list went on.

But Ichigo didn't look crazed or depressed. He just looked tired. Resigned.

"I-Ichigo-kun," gasped Ukitake, still trying to recover from his coughing fit. "What do you mean, dying? Are you sick? Shouldn't you go to the hosp–"

"I'm not sick," said Ichigo. His voice didn't waver. "I'm not sick. I'm just...dying. No one's told me that I am, and no one knows about it. But I can feel it. My body is just...shutting down." He looked at Urahara. "It's because I'm a substitute Soul Reaper, isn't it?"

Urahara hid his face behind the fan, humming quietly to himself. "I think so, Kurosaki-kun," he said gently. "The body needs the soul, and the soul is sheltered by the body. They're meant to coexist on this plane. You've witnessed an event similar to this before, have you not? With the young boy in the parakeet's body?"

"Yeah. Rukia said that his soul had been separated from his body for too long, so he couldn't return..."

The shopkeeper nodded. "Something similar is happening here. You've spent such long periods of time as a Soul Reaper that your body is starting to deteriorate."

"But Kon–"

"Isn't your soul," interjected Urahara gently. "Ginkongan weren't meant for human bodies. They were meant for gigai; soulless, artificially made vessels. Kon's presence helped slow the deterioration, yes, but I'm afraid the damage is irreversable. Even if you stayed locked in your body for the rest of your life, I'm afraid that won't be a very long time."

Ichigo was quiet. Ukitake was looking between them with a look of absolute horror on his face.

"Ichigo-kun...how can...I mean...I didn't know–"

"I don't blame you, Ukitake," said Ichigo with a weak smile. "I don't blame anyone. I'm pretty sure this sort of thing hasn't happened before; and if it has, it's been a damn long time and no one remembers." He ran his fingers through his bright orange hair, which looked a little less vibrant than it usually was. "I'm happy I became a Soul Reaper. I don't have any regrets. So don't worry."

Ukitake looked like he never wanted to do anything except worry ever again.

"How long have you been feeling...well, for lack of a better term, ill?" said Urahara quietly. Ichigo ran his fingers through his hair again.

"Since a little bit before the Winter War; I didn't think much of it at the time, 'cuz there was more important stuff to worry about. But it got worse after the war ended. My skin is always cold and I shiver all the time, even when it's warm. I'm always tired and sleepy and my body aches. My heart rate gets slower and slower, sometimes I can't catch my breath, and lately I've been having episodes where I just...keel over and black out." He was shaking a little now too; but whether it was from his condition or fear, the older men couldn't tell.

Urahara nodded. "I know that you don't want to, but...you need to tell your family. At the very least, tell Isshin. He'll know how to handle things a bit better." Ichigo gave a soft hum of acknowledgement. "And Ukitake-taicho...perhaps the Soul Society should be informed of this as well? That is, if Kurosaki-kun has no problem with that."

"It's fine."

"Ukitake-taicho?"

"Y-yes," stammered Ukitake. "I'll...I'll be sure to inform Yamamoto-sama about this. Promptly."

"Thanks, Ukitake," said Ichigo tiredly. "I should get going, it was nice seeing you again. Thanks for the tea, Urahara." The shopkeeper nodded and gave him his usual cheerful smile.

"Anytime, my boy, anytime. Feel free to stop by if you need anything."

Ichigo nodded. "I'll do that."

He stood up–

–and suddenly it felt like his heart stopped beating, and his lungs wouldn't function, and his entire body burned with pain and his world went dark as he fell, knees buckling, amid a startled shout and the rustling of cushions and the feel of strong yet lean arms breaking his fall–

And then there was nothing.

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A/N: The cliche'd fainting! -swoons- Please review! I'd like feedback :)


	2. Number One Guardian

A/N: Here's Chapter Two, as promised...i-it's sort of short, and probably depressing, but it'll get better...

Disclaimer: None of this appears in the manga, to give you a clue. I don't own Bleach :(

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Chapter Two

When Ichigo's eyes finally opened, he was lying in a warm, darkened room on a soft futon that smelled like spring air and sunshine. His entire body felt like a piece of lead, too heavy to even twitch a finger, and the aches and pains hadn't gone away; if anything, they'd gotten worse.

He could hear gentle voices from the other side of the paper door; low, urgent male tones that rumbled through the air and almost lulled Ichigo back to sleep. It was probably still Urahara and Ukitake; he remembered talking to them about his "condition", and when he'd gotten up to leave, he'd blacked out again. He wondered how long he'd been unconscious. Probably several hours at most...

He heard a rattle and a slam, then the soft rustle of cushions as someone rose to their feet in alarm. Ichigo distinctly heard Urahara say "Isshin, please, you must be quiet..."

"My _son_, Kisuke, where is my _son_?" shouted Isshin angrily, stomping over to the blonde man. "He's been missing for a whole _week, _and all of a sudden I get a call from you about "something urgent" concerning him? _Where is Ichigo?"_ Ichigo's heart sank. He'd been sleeping for an entire week? He was getting worse than he'd thought, and at a much quicker rate. He strained his ears for Urahara's reply.

A sigh, then "He's here, but you must keep your voice down, he's been sleeping for a while and I don't want him disturbed..." More stomping, then the paper door was wrenched open forcefully and there stood Isshin, looking wilder than usual and deadly serious. Ichigo's eyes squinted at the light that suddenly assaulted his face and grunted in disapproval.

"It's too bright, Dad," he grumbled. "Close the damn door." He could see Urahara peeking over Isshin's shoulder worriedly and Tessai sitting calmly at the table, appraising the situation. Ah, so that had been who the other voice belonged to. Ukitake wasn't here anymore; he'd probably gone off to the Seireitei in order to tell Captain-General Yamamoto about Ichigo's imminent demise. The teen swallowed around the lump in his throat that had suddenly appeared. That's right. He had to tell his father about this.

"Dad..."

He was cut off when Isshin punched the floor near Ichigo's head, splintering the wood rather effectively. Urahara made a small noise of protest but the other man ignored him.

"You don't call," he said softly. "You don't contact us at all, for _seven days_. The girls are worried sick, and you're here sleeping at Urahara's shop? I thought you had your priorities in order, but–"

"Dad!" Ichigo yelled, blinking rapidly and taking deep breaths when the sudden exertion made him dizzy. "Dad, it isn't like that. I've been out cold the past week. I didn't even know it'd been that long till I heard you shouting at Urahara." Isshin just looked at him, most of the anger in his face replaced with quiet confusion.

"Dad, I know you don't want to hear it, and I don't want to say it, but...I-I don't think that I'm going to be alive for very much longer." For the first time, he found himself stumbling slightly over the words. The lump in his throat was nearly suffocating him.

"My body has been slowing down lately, I didn't think it was serious at first but it was, and I didn't want to tell anyone because I didn't want people to worry. But I'm getting worse, and there's no point in hiding it because I'll be dead soon anyway and–"

Isshin clapped a hand over his son's mouth and shook his head slowly. "No," he said simply. "No. You're fine, Ichigo, you're just a little sick, there's no need to overreact like this. You should have told me earlier so that I could take care of you." Something flickered in Isshin's eyes that Ichigo couldn't remember seeing before. Something like fear and heartbreak and denial all rolled up in one, and the teen couldn't handle seeing someone as strong as his father in such a state of weakness, even less so knowing that it was his fault.

Urahara laid a gentle hand on Isshin's shoulder. "You can feel it, can't you?" he said softly. "Now that you're touching him, can you feel how cold he is? He can't even lift himself up. All of his reiatsu; where is it? Not spilling out like it used to, not wild and unrestrained. It's all inside, trying to heal his body but failing because it's too late, Isshin. You know that it's too late. His body couldn't handle being without a soul for so long, and having to deal with an injured soul when he came back to it didn't help either. You know that he's telling the truth." Ichigo's father was shaking visibly at this point. He removed his hand from Ichigo's face, clenching it at his side so hard that the veins stuck out prominently.

"He'll get better..." said Isshin weakly. But he was defeated and he knew it. His son was dying, practically dead already, and there was nothing that he could do about it. And even though he could say goodbye this time, like he couldn't do with Masaki, he wished that he had hugged Ichigo more, or told him that he loved him, or fallen asleep with him on the couch while watching stupid game shows on TV like he sometimes did with the twins.

He'd given Ichigo his own crazy brand of love, manly love that involved lots of screaming and punching and hard knocks rather than tenderness, but now he felt like it wasn't nearly enough.

It was never enough.

Ichigo watched his father fall to pieces before him, and it broke his heart to know that he was the cause. But one of them had to be strong, and evidently it had to be Ichigo, which was ironic considering that Kisuke was right and he couldn't even lift himself into a sitting position.

"Stop crying, Dad," said Ichigo softly. Isshin sniffed loudly in surprise when he realized that big, messy tears were indeed streaming down his face. "It's okay. I mean, I probably shouldn't say that I'm okay with dying, but it's not like I'll just disappear, right? There's the Soul Society and all..." Isshin sniffled a bit more and Ichigo gave him a small smile.

"It's fine, I'm fine. I'm not mad that I was a Soul Reaper; I already told Urahara and Ukitake that. You named me Ichigo, remember? The number one guardian. It was my duty to protect everyone and I would do it all over again." He managed to lift his hand from the futon and placed it gently on his father's knee. "So stop fussing over me with that stupid face and go check on Karin and Yuzu. Girls need more attention than boys, right?"

Isshin squeezed his son's hand and roughly scrubbed his tears away. "I'm proud of you, Ichigo," he said quietly. "I've always been proud of you."

"I know, Dad," Ichigo replied. He felt sleepy and warm, despite the sharp pains, and wondered vaguely how many times he would wake up before he fell asleep for the last time. "I know."

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A/N: I hope Isshin isn't too out of character, since he's usually so happy and unaffected about Ichigo, but hey, his son has both feet and an arm in the grave at the moment. He's allowed to be distraught, right?

Reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated! You guys rock :D


	3. Take Care While I'm Gone

A/N: Chapter Three...and with it, more sad stuff. But now we're getting to some actual plot! After this there will be much more humor...or at least, that's my plan :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, I promise!

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Chapter Three

Two weeks passed, and with them went Ichigo's life.

He'd only gone to school once after his week-long stay at Urahara's shop, and when he thought about it later it was a little depressing because it had basically been to invite his friends to his funeral. At first they hadn't believed him when he told them that he was dying; they laughed and joked and said _Ichigo, you have such a morbid sense of humor, lighten up a bit will ya?_

But when their laughter died down and Ichigo was looking at them with that same morose and resigned look, their smiles melted away and were replaced by looks of pure horror.

Orihime had started crying, and Chad seemed to shrink into himself, and Keigo for once was silent and he and Mizuiro and Tatsuki and Ishida wouldn't stop _staring _at him, _staring _as if Ichigo would disappear if they looked away for a second–

–and then Ichigo had smiled in a soft way and brushed away Orihime's tears, told her not to cry and to cheer up, because he would be in Soul Society and do his best to bug the higher-ups so they'd assign him to Karakura Town more frequently, and that they'd better or else Ishida would get his ass handed to him by the other Soul Reapers if he attempted to use his Quincy skills too much. At that point the bespectacled teen had raged at Ichigo for a good ten minutes, and Ichigo raged right back, and for a while it seemed as though nothing was wrong at all.

But there was, and it became blindingly apparent when Ichigo had started to cough up blood in the middle of class and had to be taken away in an ambulance. Isshin, having connections as he did, managed to get Ichigo discharged and back home within the day, where his son grit his teeth in pain and shivered despite the piles of blankets over him and slept for hours.

And until Ichigo drew his last breath, Isshin was there, telling him embarrassing stories about his youth, like the tryst he'd had with a fellow medical student in a broom cupboard, laughing boisterously and being generally loud. Ichigo would occasionally smile and roll his eyes and tell his old man to shut the hell up, and Karin and Yuzu, who had been informed of everything, sometimes crept into their brother's room at night and they'd all fall asleep in a pile, Ichigo sandwiched between his sisters and Isshin's head on his chest, his lower half still sitting on the chair by the teen's bed.

One morning, while his father told him yet another of his lurid tales, Ichigo's heart ceased to beat.

By the time Isshin finished the story, his son had been dead for five minutes. He had cried the entire time.

Three more hours passed before Karin managed to pull Isshin's hand away from Ichigo's.

And a day later, it was time for the wake.

It was odd, being dead and still being seen by your loved ones. Unnerving, really. But he took advantage of the extra time, and said his goodbyes to all his close friends, his father, and finally, his sisters. Even the stoic Karin was trying hard to fight off her tears as Ichigo ruffled her hair and said "See you guys soon. Take care of Goat-face, all right?"

A hand touched his shoulder and Ichigo turned to meet the gently smiling face of Jyuushiro Ukitake. "Are you ready to go, Ichigo-kun?"

Was he ready to go?

Ichigo took one last look at everyone gathered, from Orihime's and Yuzu's tear-streaked faces to Chad's small, sad smile and Isshin's big, trembling grin and running nose and gave a salute.

"Bye, guys," he said. "Take care while I'm gone."

Ukitake's Hell Butterfly opened the portal to the Seireitei and the two stepped through it, Ichigo looking back one final time until the entrance swallowed itself up, Karakura Town disappeared, and with that, his life as he knew it was over.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," rumbled Captain-General Yamamoto, stroking his beard in that oh-so-wise old-man way. He, Ichigo, and Ukitake were inside the soutaichou's private office, Yamamoto seated at his desk and the other two sitting formally on cushions in front of him. Ichigo was slowly losing feeling in his legs and tried not to show his discomfort.

"Er, yeah, that's me," he said awkwardly. Yamamoto's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly and Ukitake snorted, quickly covering it up as an errant cough.

"Kurosaki-kun," continued Yamamoto sternly. "I offer my deepest condolences to you. I understand that it must have been very hard for both your family and yourself to go through the pain of death at such a young age." Ichigo swallowed thickly and nodded. He feared that his voice would crack if he attempted to reply.

"That being said, because of your past history as a substitute Soul Reaper, we have allowed you to bypass the usual procedures following death, meaning you won't be placed in the Rukongai." He stroked his beard more vigorously. "You have shown yourself to be capable of handling the duties of a high-ranking officer of the Gotei 13. But although your powers are comparable to any captain, your knowledge of bureaucratic matters and the like are...shall we say, lacking."

Ukitake coughed politely into his hand and Ichigo scowled at the white-haired captain.

"As it would be foolish to send you into the Academy at this point, I have decided that it would be best instead if you had hands-on experience, that is to say, working in one of the Divisions as a seated officer." Ichigo perked up a bit.

"Oh, well, that's great, old man, thanks," he said, oblivious to the tic that Yamamoto seemed to be developing in his left eye every time the orange-haired teen opened his mouth. "Not to be picky or anything, but can I choose my division? I mean, not that I have a problem with anyone, but uh, if it's okay I'd rather not be in the Eleventh. Kenpachi's sort of, er...well, you know how he gets–"

"Your division," said Yamamoto loudly, cutting off Ichigo's rambling, "Has already been decided for you. The divisions with open spots are unfortunately missing captain-class officers, and as you are unfit at the current time to fill such a gap, never mind try to fumble your way through a leaderless division, it has been decided that you will fill the post of lieutenant of the 13th Division, under the command of Jyuushiro Ukitake-taicho."

Ichigo blinked. Just like that, he was a lieutenant? A second-in-command? Could he really do such an important job? Surely the old man had gone senile.

Before he could open his mouth to protest, Ukitake placed a warm hand on his shoulder and smiled. "I have faith in you, Ichigo-kun," he said, smiling gently. "I'll be there to help you along the way, so don't worry too much."

Ichigo relaxed a bit at the kind words and gave Ukitake a small smile. Then he turned to Yamamoto and, to the surprise of both captains, bowed so low that his forehead touched the tatami.

"Thank you, old man," he said, that old confidence surging back into his voice. "I won't let you or Ukitake or the Gotei 13 down."

Yamamoto couldn't help chuckling at the teen. Even with his head bowed to the floor in such a subservient manner, he still couldn't remember to pay even the head of the Gotei 13 the proper respect. "Very well. Get some rest, Kurosaki-fukutaicho. Your duties start tomorrow."

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A/N: Aaaaaaaaand, Chapter 3 is over! Pretty predictable, getting placed into Squad 13, eh? -shot- I know, I know. But now that we're past all the sad stuff, we can get to the romance! -rolls up sleeves- Let's do this! I hope you'll all join me on this adventure! Please drop me a review to let me know what you thought!


	4. Shenanigans

A/N: Whew! I've been procrastinating on this for a while; sorry for the wait, guys! Not much happens here, just the usual introductions to Ichigo's new division. Things will pick up after this, promise.

Also, for my Eyeshield 21 fans, a new poll is up on my profile as to which pairing I should write for next.

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Chapter Four

"It's a little untidy, but please bear with it," said Jyuushiro cheerfully, shuffling a few errant papers lying around on the dark wood desk. Ichigo nodded and tried his best not to step on anything.

To say that the old office of Kaien Shiba was a little untidy was the understatement of the year, because Ichigo couldn't even see if there was tatami on the floor and there were papers in varying states of crumpledness everywhere one looked. Dust coated nearly every flat surface; it smelled musty; and Ichigo was fairly certain that he could see a few mushrooms sprouting in one particularly dank corner of the room.

He wondered vaguely why no one had bothered to come into this room for so long. He knew that Kaien Shiba had been killed by a Hollow many years ago, and that it had had a profound effect on many in the Seireitei, Rukia and Ukitake among them, of course. Was that why this room was so filthy, yet so sacred? Had Kaien been too beloved, too missed, for anyone to even try to face a reminder of the fact that he was dead?

He wondered.

Ichigo was snapped out of his reverie by a warm hand on his shoulder. "Ichigo-kun?" said Jyuushiro a little worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"Oh – er, I'm fine, Ukitake," stammered the teen, slightly surprised by the sudden interruption. "Just eh...daydreaming is all." Jyuushiro chuckled.

"There will be plenty of time for daydreaming later, Ichigo-kun. Now, let's tackle this mess, shall we?" Ichigo nodded and the two tied back their kimono sleeves, bracing themselves for a battle against filth.

It was nearly getting dark by the time they finished, sweat soaking their clothes and hair and dripping down their faces as they all but collapsed in a heap on the floor. Hours and hours of merciless cleaning and scrubbing and poking and prodding and an argument about the proper dusting technique (Jyuushiro liked to sweep side-to-side, Ichigo opted for small circles) had finally resulted in the room looking like an office again. The musty smell was gone, the floor was shining and garbage-free, and even the tatami had been replaced. Renji had come over in the middle of the day to deliver a potted plant as a present, which stood in the now mushroom-free corner, leaves waving gently in the breeze that blew in from the open paper doors. Ichigo sighed contentedly.

"We finally got it done," he said, brushing his hair back from his face. "Are you okay, Ukitake? How's your cough?"

"Not even a tickle in my throat," replied Jyuushiro good-naturedly. "It was rather fun, tackling a project like that with all my might. My subordinates usually fuss over me a good deal, so I tend to stay in bed rather than incur their wrath. But I'm glad we managed to finish it all in one day. You deserve to have a nice, clean office, Ichigo-kun." The white-haired captain smiled and ruffled Ichigo's hair, ignoring the protests. "Believe me when I say it's going to be a great pleasure to have you around."

Ichigo thanked every god that existed that he managed to fight down the worst of the blush at those words. "Tch...D-don't be such a sap, Ukitake," he managed to grumble. His captain simply laughed some more before standing up and dusting off his haori.

"Well, this sap is rather hungry, so what say we go and get some supper? I can introduce you to our third seats – we have two – and the other officers. They should get to know their new fukutaicho, don't you agree?" Ichigo nodded, scrambling up and following the captain through the barracks.

The mess hall was surprisingly quiet considering the amount of people within its confines. Ichigo noted that they all looked extremely easygoing and genial, much like their captain. But it was the quiet joy of Ukitake rather than the boisterous and sake-drenched debauchery of Shunsui Kyouraku. Ichigo felt himself relax unconsciously.

A slim, short girl with a pixie cut and gloves that seemed two sizes too large snapped to attention almost immediately after the two entered the room. "My Tai...I mean, Ukitake-taicho!" she exclaimed with a blush, standing up with a great clatter and dashing over to them. She was hotly pursued by a much taller and broader man with an impressive goatee and an oddly shaped hairstyle. The two skidded to a halt right in front of Jyuushiro, who sighed a bit in exasperation.

"Ukitake-taicho! What are you doing in the mess hall? Is it an emergency?" asked the man. Although _screamed_ might be a better word. Ichigo swore his eardrums were just one decibel away from rupturing. Thankfully, Jyuushiro held up his hand for silence.

"No, no, Kotsubaki-kun, nothing of the sort. I merely wanted to introduce your new fukutaicho to the division." Murmurs broke out throughout the room as everyone turned their eyes to Ichigo, who found it hard not to fidget. "Everyone, I'm sure you remember Ichigo Kurosaki, our young deputy. Although now, he will be known to you as Kurosaki-fukutaicho, lieutenant of the 13th Division."

No one was muttering anymore. The silence was stifling, as if the air itself was holding its breath. Ichigo cleared his throat and bowed to the assembled shinigami. "I'll be sure to be to do my best for you all as a lieutenant, and for Ukitake...I mean, Ukitake-taicho, as well. Please take care of me." His cheeks turned a little pink; fortunately, no one could see his face.

There was more silence for about three seconds, then a lone cry of "Hear hear!" As if on cue, the entire hall thundered into applause and cheers, and suddenly Ichigo was submerged in a sea of black shihakusho, with hands shaking his and slapping him good-naturedly on the back and names being bombarded at him with alarming speed. A slightly bewildered smile made its way onto his face as he was accepted by the rest of the division.

"Okay, okay, break it up, guys!" screeched the goatee man from before. He made quick work of shooing everyone else off before turning abruptly to Ichigo and bowing so low his head hit the floor with a dull _thunk._ "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki-fukutaicho! I am Sentaro Kotsubaki, the 3rd seat of Squad 13. It is my honour to-"

He never got to finish that sentence for he was suddenly kicked to the side by the pixie-cut girl, who executed a similar bow to Ichigo, although with much more grace. "Kurosaki-fukutaicho! I am Kiyone Kotetsu, the other 3rd seat of Squad 13, and much more capable than that idiot Sentaro. Be assured that-"

Her sentence was also interrupted, for at that moment Sentaro had recovered from the blow and proceeded to bop her on the head, which resulted in Ichigo looking on helplessly as the third seats (_his_ third seats now, he noted with just a touch of dread) began one of their usual catfights. Jyuushiro pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Gods, give me strength."

"All right, you two," he said sternly but not unkindly, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. Kiyone blushed about three shades of red and Sentaro looked properly ashamed. "That's quite enough. Let's use our mouths to put food in our stomachs rather than lash out at our comrades, hm?" He smiled and the two shinigami slunk off, properly humbled for the moment. Ichigo raised an eyebrow at the white-haired captain. Jyuushiro chuckled.

"This is a lot more common than you'd think. You'll have to learn to endure a lot of their shenanigans, I'm afraid." He led Ichigo to Sentaro and Kiyone's table and plunked the boy down, ruffling his hair. "But you'll do fine. Like I've been saying, Ichigo-kun, I have faith in you."

Ichigo smiled. It was a small smile; really nothing more than a slight upward quirk of the corner of the boy's mouth. But it was warm nonetheless, and it reflected in his brown eyes and smoothed the wrinkle between his eyebrows and made him look more like the fresh-faced teenager he really was. For some reason, that smile sent a thrill through Jyuushiro, like a jolt of electricity had touched his heart and made it speed up ever so slightly. He couldn't remember ever seeing Ichigo smile like that. He wanted it to happen more often.

"Thanks, Ukitake," said his new fukutaicho. "It means a lot."

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A/N: Please review! :)


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